Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof
Third Age, Imladris
Estel cupped his hands and submerged the vessel formed by his fingers and palms. Water flowed swiftly into the hollow. Estel moved carefully, his tongue caught between his lips, not spilling a single drop as his hands hovered, passing over a sea of clear water. Pausing over an island of pure white beach (or, perhaps slightly pink), Estel tipped his fingers forward. The boy giggled as cool water rushed over his heel, rinsing away soapy suds.
Curiously, he examined his foot. Estel had never given much thought to his feet before, save that he told them where to go and they went, and he did know about the blisters which formed whenever he ran in his boots without socks. He knew the mirror of his feet, etched into the soles of his shoes by wear and sweat. But he had never truly considered his feet before.
Cradling the foot in both hands, Estel noticed the way his heel protruded back from his ankle like a boat not fully harbored. He poked the rosy skin and watched with glee as it turned white, then quickly pink again. His fingers moved across his sole and Estel giggled, then bit his lip and grinned. Thick calluses from running about formed mail across his feet. "I bet I could walk over glass or fire and never know it."
With a splash Estel's foot returned to the water. He hated having half-dry skin while the rest of him was wet. Taking a deep breath he plunged below the surface, then broke again into the air. Estel frowned. He was bored, but not ready to leave the bath yet. Where is it? Annoyed, the boy looked about, then leaned over the edge of the tub. Oh. "Go away!" he shook the spider off of his toy boat and began to play, quite pleased to tug the bit of wood about and dictate its adventures.
"Estel, it's been over an hour!"
"And?" Estel called.
"Have you washed yet?"
Estel's mouth twisted into a grimace as he looked at his arms and legs, then shrugged. Looks clean enough to me. "Yes, Ada!" he lied. The ache had gone from his legs by the time Estel left the bath. He grinned. And Elrohir said I might experience pain. Shows what he knows!
Fourth Age, Gondor
"Forgive me for failing to see the association," Eldarion drawled. His eyes were tempered steel as he regarded his father with impatience and disbelief. With the arrogance of youth he discredited in advance most of what his father had to say, holding instead to anger. "Of course I understand who Elrohir is, having read of the War." Another story Eldarion and his sister often begged their father to tell was that of the War of the Ring, but Elessar insisted the children were too young, and requested that the others with living memory not spin yarns. The children responded by reading every account they could find. "Nevertheless, this has little to do with you."
Empowered by the patience of age, Elessar replied calmly, "When I was two years old my father was slain by an arrow puncturing his skull through the eye. My mother took me to Imladris, where we dwelt, under the protection of Lord Elrond, who also became my foster father. The Enemy was looking for me, so Ada called me Estel."
Eldarion set his jaw, electing a minor battle. He wanted to hear the story continued, but refused to request it. Elessar, remembering his own childhood, understood without a word. "Elrohir decided in the early spring that I hadn't the riding skills of a--well, something rather crude he meant for me not to overhear. By mid-spring he had a plan, as was his wont: Elrohir developed a plan before mentioning it to anyone. Ada agreed that Elrohir might teach me to ride, but first I had to complete two maths levels."
This earned a suspicious look from Eldarion.
"Yes," Elessar answered, "I worked unwillingly. But by the start of summer, just as my allergies stopped choking me--" he added the embarrassing segment for Eldarion's benefit "--I finished the maths, spent four days nursing an astounding headache, then discovered the subtle pain of advanced riding."
Third Age, Imladris
Estel awoke to the sound of birds twittering. He sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the mattress, and rubbed his eyes. It was a truly glorious morning--but he was ten years old, and did not care for glorious mornings. All Estel could think of was riding again.
That is, until he stood up. His legs burned fiercely, and he fell back onto his bed. Trying again, Estel stood with his legs spaced widely, and at least was not in too much pain. He did fall over once trying to pull on his breeches, and with a loud thud crashed into the ground, thrashing about. This accomplished little, save tearing his breeches. Then he found another pair which he hoped was not too dirty and wriggled into them, still sitting on the ground.
The moment Elrond saw Estel, trying as he was to walk with his legs spread apart, he said to Elrohir, "He cannot ride today."
This bruised Estel's pride, and he insisted, "I can so ride today!"
Posting under the hot sun not an hour later, Estel very much regretted his protestation. His muscles were crying, and those tears dribbled through his pores as sweat. He wondered if he would ever be able to sit down again. "Estel, come here. At a walk, please!" Estel tugged lightly on the reins, and the horse beneath him slowed, then halted before Elrohir. "Do you want to call a halt to this? Say the word, Estel, and the pace will slow."
Estel shook his head. Yes, he was in pain. Yes, his arms and legs ached. Yes, he was horribly tired and uncomfortable. But he saw in Elrohir's eyes that to quit would mean disappointment, and he knew that to quit would prove Ada right. And Estel was too proud to prove Ada right. "I want to ride," he said, and realized that he did want to ride, in spite of the pain. He did wish to ride!
Elrohir smiled. "Then get out there," he said. "And check your diagonal!" he called to Estel's back.
That night, Estel's arms and legs trembled, and he lay in bed shaking. He awoke aching, his back and legs protesting every step he took. "Estel, do you wish to ride today?" Elrohir asked him.
"I wish to ride," Estel answered, and meant it.
Gradually, the pain disappeared. Estel hardly noticed: he hardly noticed the pain, and so hardly noticed its ebb, until the morning he awoke free of that trouble. Estel found also that he made fewer and fewer mistakes. Elrohir rarely reminded him to check his diagonal when posting, and Estel almost never missed the horse's rhythm--that mistake he had made only twice, learning quite quickly the jolt of pain suffered when a leather saddle collided with his bottom. He did have trouble sitting down that day!
When the leaves on the trees turned bright colors, Estel knew for a fact that he was much improved as a rider and, overall, as a person. He had learned patience from Elrohir's riding lessons, and he had learned the benefit of work and dedication.
Fourth Age, Gondor
Eldarion was curious: "What did your father say?" he asked. "And what about Elrohir? Did he cease teaching you after that summer?"
"Oh, indeed no! Elrohir was not finished torturing me." Elessar smiled so that Eldarion would know he was joking. "Every morning, Ada or Elrohir would ask, 'Do you wish to ride today, Estel?' And every morning I said yes, even in rain. Ada would watch sometimes, but I never could read his face. All through autumn I wondered what he thought, then in winter began to worry. I loved riding, but what did Ada think? It was ever a question in my mind, whether he felt I was growing up too quickly, if he wanted me to spend more time at books as he did and less time out of doors, riding. Or did he worry that Elrohir was pushing me too hard, that I was pushing myself too hard? I had my answer in March."
"The anniversary of your birth," Eldarion said, guessing in a tone of certainty.
"Absolutely."
"Well?" The boy would not later be keen to admit it, but he was eager to hear of Elrond's reaction to Estel's riding.
Elessar smiled at the memory. "He gave me a horse, and he said that he was proud of me." He did not add that the latter had been the best gift. Eldarion knew that well enough.
Choked, unable to ask truly why, why if Estel so longed for Elrond's approval he could not give his own son at least his time if not his pride, Eldarion took up another item from the jumble spread across his bed. "What about this one?" he asked.
To be continued
I'm in desperate need of a beta-reader. If anyone is willing to help me out, please let me know! I really would appreciate it. Also, I will try to have my next chapter posted much quicker. This one took a while because I was on holiday.